I’m not sure exactly when Stacey and I started talking about it. I know it’s been quite a while.
At some point, one of us mentioned how nice it would be once we got to the date where we’d been married healthy longer than we were married unhealthy.
In our recovery community, we talk a lot about our “Fan Day.” (You know, the day when the s#!+ hits the fan.) Mine was January 6, 2009. That day, secrets I’d been keeping from everyone – Stacey, my friends and family, my co-workers at the church where I worked – were exposed. Before January 6, 2009 no one had known about my addiction, and all that went along with that part of my life, except me and God.
My Fan Day was just two days after our 17th wedding anniversary. For 17 years we’d been building a life, a marriage, and a family together. And for 17 years it had not been what it could have been, what it was supposed to have been. Because there wasn’t full honesty. There wasn’t full trust. There wasn’t full intimacy.
Not everything was bad. Not even close. We had a good relationship. We got along. We loved each other deeply. We worked hard to raise our kids well (while making a lot of mistakes). But neither of us knew how much we were missing out on. Each of us, in our own way, was wearing a mask. Using strategies of self-protection to avoid vulnerability. Not risking letting each other see our whole self…even the ugly parts. Neither of us had a picture of what it could look like to fail, to be broken, to let the other person see it, and to know that we’d be loved, accepted, and safe.
Those were the first 17 years. To be more specific, those were the first 6,212 days of our marriage.
And then, January 6, 2009 came.
And everything fell apart.
AND, everything started to be put back together. Better.
Those early “post-Fan Day” weeks & months of recovery were rough and healing and painful and wonderful. We cried a lot. We laughed a lot. We talked a LOT.
We actually began to experience the relational intimacy we were meant to have as a husband and wife.
We went to therapy, we learned a lot about our back stories, we dove into a process of recovery, and through all of that we started to experienced a consistently healthy marriage. Not perfect, but healthy.
Days became weeks, which became months, which became years. We found a new, healthy normal. Our personal recovery experience became a ministry that is now our passion and profession.
And at some point along the way, one of us mentioned how nice it would be when we got to the date where we’d been married healthy longer than we were unhealthy.
That day is tomorrow, January 9, 2026.
On January 9, 2026 we will have been married 6,213 days since Fan Day. More days in the “since” column than in the “before” column.
As I think about this and write about it, I feel an immense gratitude. To God, primarily. This has been his work, and he’s done it faithfully, consistently, daily. There hasn’t been a day when he hasn’t offered mercy, grace, and help.
I also feel gratitude toward Stacey. She didn’t have to stay married to me. In those early days, there were probably many people who felt her smartest option would have been not to stay. But she stayed. And not only that, she also did something even harder: she got honest about the not-great things she had brought to our marriage, and instead of dismissing them (which, compared to what I had done, would have been easy and understandable) she owned them. She did her own work.
As I think about and write about this, what I don’t feel is pride. This is not a bragging post. This is not a “look what I/we have done” post. We couldn’t and wouldn’t be where we are without God and the support of so many wonderful people in our lives.
Because – full disclosure – as much as I wish it weren’t true, I still don’t bring full honesty, trust, or intimacy to my marriage. I still want to be seen in certain ways by Stacey. I still don’t like being or looking weak. I still don’t like struggling or being known to struggle. I still sometimes present myself in ways to make myself look better. And I think she would say she struggles with her version of doing the same.
But it’s so different now. Those times are the exception, not the rule. We know how to live in the light, in truth. We know how to recognize the deceptive voices of shame the enemy tries to use to convince us to hide again. And most of the time, we keep doing our work; admitting powerlessness, believing God can restore (and maintain) sanity in our lives, and once again choosing to turn our will and lives over to his care.
It’s so much better living in the light than living in fear and self-protection.
And that way of living is available to anyone. When you read our story, I don’t want pats on the back or comments about how special we are. What I want is for you to know that you can have this same kind of life. One where you don’t have to hide. One where you can be honest and face any outcome or consequence that comes.
And one where – like we’ve been trying to do for (almost) the last 6,213 days – you walk one day at a time, one moment at a time, surrendering to a loving God who will do for you what you could not do for yourself.
